Golden Eagle
by Channel Jumper
Summary: Alfred never knew that his blood was different, and how he would get wrapped in a fight against himself, the army, and the anonymous forces that have been creeping its way into the world. He thought he would return to his normal life, but he was wrong from the very start. Rated T for language, and graphic violence. AU where characters gain powers in a world set before modern age.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or its characters. I only own the plot.**

* * *

 **Golden Eagle**

* * *

 **Chapter One**

 **Upon the Wolf**

* * *

Alfred lifted the wooden crates, his arms maintaining his grip while he walked out of the ship, the wooden port clacking below him from his worn shoes. He gave a small grin as he stacked the crate softly onto the top of another crate, pride flaring in his chest. The descending sun made the sea behind him transform into vibrant waves, crashing against the rocky shore with water spraying into the air. Alfred loved the scent of spice and salt drifting through his atmosphere, almost forgetting about the other fifteen crates needing to be lifted onto shore.

His boss Angus, a scruffy bearded man with fierce eyes, stared at him impatiently, brushing fish oil from his dirty tunic. After Alfred didn't respond to his aggressive staring, he barked. "Jones, quit staring and do your damn work!"

Alfred jumped at the unexpected order from his black-haired boss, and nodded with a smile. "Sure boss!"

Angus grumbled as he trotted back onto the ship with a limp in his step, while Alfred ran back onto the vessel with rare energy; Alfred was happy that he didn't have to stay on the wooden craft, since nothing ever happened for days while the rocking of the mobile ship almost made him nauseous. He is happy to see civilization once again, and the smell of fresh food waited upon him to devour until his belly was satisfied. Alfred was just plain happy for the positive day, ignoring the fact that his boss gave him work until seven o'clock.

Alfred did the rest of his rather easy work for the day, counting each minute and second for his profession to end so he could run along the cobblestone path to a well-lit restaurant or tavern. Alfred clicked his tongue numerous times in impatience as he lifted the last of the crates onto the port, with Angus behind him, analyzing his progress.

"Alright, I helped you with your cargo, bro. Doesn't that deserve a night at the tavern?" Alfred joked to Angus, who grunted in annoyance. Angus regarded each crate with some hint of satisfaction, walking around it slowly to access each detail Alfred has put into making everything right. Alfred wiped the sweat off his forehead, some nervous energy growing from the uncertainty Angus' body movements portrayed.

"Alright, you're free to go, Jones," Angus stated in his rough voice, making Alfred smile. Angus stopped him before he celebrated. "But you still have work tomorrow, so don't be late." Angus placed a rummaging hand into his tunic's front pocket, taking out ten silver coins, placing it into Alfred's hand. "And here's your silver for today, use it to get a room for tonight."

Alfred nodded, grabbing tightly onto the silver. "Thanks Mr. Kell, it's nice to see you do care about me."

Angus scrunched his nose at his statement. "Jones, just go."

Alfred nodded, walking away from the darkening port as men began to light oil lamps on barrels as the seagull cries died down. Alfred eyed the town of Raulf with its lively vibes from the hanging lamps held by colorful wires to the buildings lit with floral or clay decorations; Alfred thought the town was a sign of paradise compared to the other towns he visited while Angus sold and traded his cargo.

Alfred pocketed his silver into his jacket's pocket, walking through the bright streets of Raulf, the people's smiles being reflected by his. Alfred knew he has to find a hotel; the thought of sleeping in an actually comfortable bed hit him, and his first priority is to find a cheap but pleasant room to reside in. Alfred grimaced at the remembrance of the hard mattresses and the uneven filled pillows when he was at sea, but shook it aside as he focused on his first concern.

Alfred stopped abruptly when he noticed the sign of a bright inn hanging loosely above the door, the words _Plytoon_ written in fading black ink. Alfred opened the birch door, hearing the excited chatter of sober people, and the slurs and catcalls from drunk men. Alfred spotted a man wiping the bar's surface with a dirty rag, looking displeased when a glass was thrown at a wall, ricocheting glass scattering while the ale spilt onto the floor with the accompanied howling of laughter from intoxicated groups. Alfred could tell that man didn't have the patience to be quiet from how his eye twitched in disdain from the obnoxious guffawing, and frowned when he walked up to the man, sitting on a bar stool.

The bartender glared at him, but Alfred just gave a smile when he suddenly grabbed the rag from him, making the man blink in surprise. Before the bartender can explode at how Alfred was being rude from his sudden action, Alfred got off his seat to walk over to the location of the spill, taking the rag and using it to wipe the sticky drink off the floor. The bartender relaxed his shoulder before he shouted something obscene to Alfred, and sighed with relief that someone had the decency to help him; the bar was never this loud, but with the oncoming events happening in Raulf the services of food and drinks frustrated him to the point where his eye began to twitch.

After Alfred finished washing up the alcoholic drink from the floor, and stood up, returning the rag by dropping it onto the bartender's table. The man raised his eyebrow in question. "You needed the help; the inn looks like it doesn't have that much staff to handle the consequences of drunk individuals," Alfred explained to the confused man, who gave a small 'ah' as a reply.

"At least there are some nice people in this inn. There are two types of customers: drunk assholes and sober ones that don't want to interfere," the bartender snorted, resting his left elbow onto the table's surface. "So, anything today?"

Alfred beamed. "Yes, I want a room, and some food."

The man nodded. "Yeah, that will be three silver, and for the food, it will vary."

Alfred took out three silver coins and placed it on the table. "Yeah, but I'll just grab a piece of bread with mash potatoes in it, and soup; I don't want to get sick, after eating bread too long I think my digestive system forgot how to digest correctly."

The bartender snickered. "Well, twenty five copper then."

Alfred extracted twenty five coppers from his pockets, his stamina being replaced by exhaustion. The bartender noticed as Alfred gave him the money. "I'll deliver your food up, just go to sleep. Your body looks like it's about to collapse from exhaustion."

Alfred gave a grateful smile. "Thanks, I'll be on my way."

The bartender nodded. "Room in the second hallway, third to the left."

Alfred exited the lobby up the stairs to his room, the aroma of birch and melting wax welcoming him to his bed. Alfred placed his coat onto a nearby coat rack, and jumped onto the bed with a satisfied sigh; the mattress releasing the tension between his shoulders and upper body. Alfred noted the source of the frustrating light from the oil lamp on his bedside that kept him away from his sleep, and vanquished the flame with a single puff of breath. Alfred gave an inner smile, turning his body around in the blankets, going to sleep.

* * *

 **~Golden Eagle~**

* * *

The bustling markets were filled with radiant colors and smells, people walking around with baskets or sacks filled with food or jars of parsley. The reddish tarps and fabrics covering the stalls with shade were held by poles struck to the ground, and fishing boats will alarm with the sound of bells. Numerous workers in short-sleeved clothing were hauling fish, cargo, and even packages of wine to the port, seagulls screeching above them in repeating circles.

Alfred wore his regular clothing: a rugged coat, a white shirt, and muddy pants. He was holding a crate full of molasses, the strong scent whipping his face as he trotted with Angus around the market place. Alfred was sweating from the sun's heat, his neck area becoming damp; carrying around a crate of refined sugar didn't help as the intense weather plus the job of holding it aggravated him.

Angus stopped in his tracks, fixing his eyes on Alfred who waited for orders. "Give me the molasses, Jones."

Alfred complied and gave him the heavy crate, relaxing his rigid muscles after an hour of carrying it. Angus heaved it onto his chest.

"You're done for the day, Jones. I'll handle this," Angus responded, with Alfred stretching himself.

"Sure thing, Angus," Alfred answered, waving to Angus' leaving figure that entered a tavern that Alfred didn't recognize.

Alfred turned his back on the tavern and started exploring Raulf with growing curiosity, the terracotta and stone used throughout the town brightening but straining his eyes.

"Come back here!" a commanding voice got Alfred's attention as someone pushed him to the ground as he heard frantic footsteps fading with the accompanied sounds of metal against the ground. Alfred groaned as he got off the dirty floor, his cheek scraped from the friction between hard ground.

Alfred looked around to see a crowd staring at a nearby alley, many whispering about the current ideal that Alfred didn't witness because of being shoved by. Alfred looked uncertain at the alley, but decided to enter the filthy crevice between the buildings, his curiosity overpowering him.

Alfred caught the signs of footprints in the dirt and the faint sounds of shouting men, with Alfred running after the source of the panic-stricken noise. Alfred maneuvered through broken glass and wood, making sure shrapnel didn't scrape his feet because of his open-toed shoes. Before long, Alfred saw the guards in a dead end, holding rope that connected to a tight ring around a wolf's neck. The wolf growled in hostility, the rope choking it when it struggled, its eyes dilating in supposed anger.

Alfred gasped at the ferocious creature, not expecting to see a animal running around the town of Raulf. The wolf's white fur was covered in grime and blood, its paws trying to scratch the guards.

One of the guards noticed Alfred's presence, turning around with his grip still on the rope. "Hey! What the hell are you doing here?"

Alfred widened his eyes when the guard grabbed their sword from their sheath, its metal glistening in the limited sunlight from above. The guard lifted his sword and slashed at Alfred, with Alfred dodging by backing away by a few steps. The second guard narrowed his eyes at him, placing his unoccupied hand on the handle of his sword that was hidden snugly in his sheath.

The guard armed with his sword motioned for the other to have a strong grip on the rope as he released his own, getting into a defensive stance before he lashed his sword at Alfred once again, with the second strike cutting into Alfred's shoulder where he howled in pain, his hand gripping to the wound that penetrated layers of flesh. The wolf gave a snarl as he whipped his body back and forth in frantic jerks, his teeth bared as the other guard held onto the rope with a vice-like grip.

The guard charged at Alfred, the sword held firmly in his white knuckles, striking at his chest; Alfred spotted a piece of stone as long as a stake, grabbed it with quick fingers and in a split second he parried the sword by making a boundary between him and the sword with the stone shard, using his strength to push the guard off him which made him stumble a few feet back. The guard almost lost his hold on the handle but went back into his defensive stance, with Alfred breathing heavily.

Alfred had to think quickly before the guard swung the weapon at him again, his shoulder still stinging in pain from the gash. Before the guard can raise his sword one more time, Alfred bent down and grabbed dust and bits of shrapnel into his hand – wincing from how the shards bit into his skin – and threw them into the guard's eyes, who began to scream as his eyes stung from glass slitting parts of his cornea with the dust giving him temporary blindness, trying to rub the filth from his eyes in vain. The guard released his hand on his sword, which clattered to the ground. Alfred dropped the stone shard and picked up the sword, turning his head to see the other guard wielding his with the blade directed to him, the uncertainty mixed with determination in his eyes gave evidence to the pressure of being preoccupied while another threat made him vulnerable to attacks.

Alfred knew and shook his head in disapproval. "I'm not going to hurt you." Alfred tried to reassure the man, but the guard was still having inner conflict if Alfred was lying or not.

"No, they always say that," the guard responded, his grip not faltering as he held his sword and the rope. "Just get out of here! What do you possibly want?"

Alfred looked perplexed; he was just a cargo worker that was just curious on why the guards were holding down a wolf – which isn't a native animal to Raulf's sunny plains – and now the guard looked at him like he was a criminal. "I don't need anything, I'm not an enemy!"

The guard shook his head violently, ignoring him. "No, you want the wolf! You'll never get the wolf!"

Alfred widened his eyes in surprise; the thought of wanting the wolf that had the appearance of a vicious savage made him look at the guard incredulously, although the guard looked serious about his proclamation. "What? Why would I want a dog that looks blood thirsty?!" For a second Alfred almost thought that the wolf looked insulted, but he didn't think about it as he directed his vision at the guard.

The guard's stance wavered, his eyes showing inner horror as his grip loosened on the rope around the hoop of the wolf; the wolf noticed and began to thrash his body, and the rope was loose from the guard's grasp – much to the guard's fear – and pounced on him, claws dark as ebony striking across the guard's open face, who fell to the ground on his back and screamed in pain as red cuts followed after the claws came into contact with the man's flesh. Alfred stared in fear as the man's wounds cut deeply into his skin, his screams almost echoing throughout the alley and must have reached to the open streets of Raulf at how loud his pain could be heard.

Alfred could feel his heart beating rapidly, watching the body movements of the wolf after the guard's screams died down, who was currently staring at him with amethyst eyes – stern and fierce. Alfred could see how those eyes examined his very body – his eyes filled with fear of getting killed, his bleeding shoulder, his chest moving from his lungs being refilled with oxygen - and that stunned Alfred a little; the wolf didn't attack or do anything hostile, it's just looking at him curiously with a hint of inquiry.

The wolf then growled at something out of his field of vision – which was on his left – and when Alfred turned his head to the direction where the wolf is he saw the first guard standing up, open eyes narrowing as blood dripped down from it, which almost horrified Alfred at how much glass has been inserted into the eyes to make him bleed profusely. The guard held the stone shard that Alfred dropped earlier in a tight grip, his head looking around frantically since his eyes were in a temporary blindness from how red and dirty it was, tears also running down his face.

"Where are you?!" the blind guard shouted, anger clearly in his voice, scaring America. "You will pay for this!"

The wolf growled as it lunged at the guard, its snout bared its teeth as his claws and incisors came in contact of the guard, at that moment Alfred's vision blacked out, the sounds of the guard's screaming fading in the distance, but Alfred knew that it echoed – he knew he would get nightmares from it.

* * *

 **~Golden Eagle~**

* * *

Alfred's breathing regulated to a normal pace, his muscles relaxing as cool air touched his skin, his shoulder aching much to his annoyance. His eyes felt sore as he groaned, darkness in his vision as he tried to open his eyes.

"Don't move," a voice warned, the sound of gushing water nearby, Alfred's nose compressing from a strong smell that he wasn't use to smelling. "You're hurt."

Alfred gave an uncomfortable grunt as he ignored the man as he tried to stand up, wincing as pain grew on his shoulder. An unexpected force pushed him down to the cold ground, making him gasp in surprise. His eyes opened, struggling to know where he was, and what he saw was a man, an annoyed man as he pushed him down again before he stood up entirely.

"Don't be stupid, your shoulder is still wounded; you fainted from blood loss so you better make sure to not kill yourself," the man with a heavy accent grumbled, taking gauze and inspecting Alfred's shoulder, holding it in placed as he wrapped the wound.

Alfred glanced at the man that gently pressed the bandage around his shoulder that had dry blood splotches around a deep cut that almost horrified him. His hair had the color of pale blond, almost the texture of snow, his strands of hair wavy in appearance. The man had a broad build, with clothes the hue of grey and white worn snuggly on his body. A pink-whitish scarf adorned his neck, covering it entirely. His face was covered in dirt, almost covering his disgruntled mouth, his nose, and the amethyst eyes that accompanied it. Alfred blinked at the last detail, knowing that's the same eye color that the wolf possessed before he blacked out.

The man finished wrapping his wound, eyeing it one more time before he stood up. "You're fine. Stand up."

Alfred stood up, his vision clearing as he examined his surroundings. He wasn't in the dead end of the alley anymore, his location completely changed since they were now in the sewers, the pungent smell of the water attacking his nose as he gripped onto the brick walls for support while the man looked around in caution.

Alfred looked back at the man, who was inserting leftover gauze back into his pocket. He never saw this man before, and from how his clothes were ragged with rips and tears in different areas he knew that the man was penurious. Alfred wondered if the man had found him while wondering the alleys while he was unconscious, but for now the man looked rather exhausted and vexed, so it would be best not to question him about it while he's in his current state.

"What happened?" Alfred muttered to himself, realizing how cold it was because of his lack of upper body wear. "And what happened to my shirt and jacket?"

The man sighed. "I can't tell you much of the information, but let's just say that we made too much of a scene." The man explained as he crept to the end of a corner, passing a glance behind the corner, then quickly hiding himself by pressing his body against the wall. "No more time, we have to go."

Before Alfred could speak, the man took his hand and tugged him to the opposite end of the sewers, almost stumbling from the man's surprising strength for someone that looks poverty-stricken. Alfred ran with the man, hearing distant shouts behind them, which made him quicken his pace as they went around a corner, in front of them was iron ladders leading upward to above the ground. The man took a hold of the bars and went up. "Come on," he ordered in a hushed voice to Alfred, who complied as he grabbed onto the ladder when there was enough space to begin his ascent while the man saw the minuscule beams of sunlight from a manhole cover above him.

The man pushed the cover out of its hatch, and pushed it to the side so he can climb out of the hole. When he did so, Alfred rose out with his body slumping down to the ground and he breathed heavily. The man rose an eyebrow at Alfred. The man saw a red mark that went around Alfred's lower part of his right leg, and knew what happened just by seeing it. The man could hear shouting from the hole they came from, and placed the manhole cover back to its position.

"Find anything, quickly," the man ordered in haste, looking around for anything to block the manhole. Alfred nodded as he spotted a crate, and went behind it, beginning to push the box to the location of the sewer hole. The man assisted him, both of their strength able to move the crate above the cover before the guards began to push on it. They could hear the sound of muffled yells mixing in with banging under them, their sighs of relief calming them down.

With the few minutes that Alfred used to comprehend where they were, he looked around to see that it was already dark, the stars shining brightly enough for him to almost make out the constellation of the Saggitarius just by looking at the star's formations. He could see lights coming from windows and the streets, still hearing the chatter from happy town folk. Alfred also noticed that they stood in another alley, where two paths divided by left to right based on his vision, with the ground still as filthy as the last one with bits of shrapnel, dying weeds, and pebbles in disarray.

"The crate won't hold them back for long," the man said, looking around the alley. "Come on, we need to escape the town."

"Hold on!" Alfred objected, looking at the man with an incredulous expression. "Why are we leaving the city? Who are you? Why are they coming after us?! How did you find me?!"

The man grimaced as his eyes dashed from one of the continuous alleys to his left, to Alfred, and to the banging near the covered manhole cover. Alfred was just staring at him with narrowed eyes, waiting for an answer. "There is no time. Either you get captured, or you don't."

"What about my job? My life?" Alfred demanded an answer.

"Forget your job!" the man shouted as a response. "No matter what the circumstance, the guards know your face now. The guards alarmed the others, and they could be interrogating anyone who has been even in the closest proximity to your face."

Alfred bit his tongue before he could argue when he heard the crate moving slightly. He doesn't even know this man, and he wants him to follow him out of the city; Alfred knew that the man's orders were crazy, but he was right about the guards. He doesn't want to get captured, since he has no more money, and wasting his life in prison almost made him shiver in repulsiveness. Although, Alfred didn't trust him, going with strangers was one of the lessons many had to learn, and some had to learn in painful ways, so Alfred was suspicious of the person who urged him to leave the city. But he had no choice, Alfred had assaulted guards, and one of them must've survived to give an account of him hurting them so they must be looking around for him, and with the stories of how ruthless the prisons were on the island that Raulf was located on, he would rather trust this man – and counting how he wrapped his wounds Alfred thought he was polite enough to follow (although his type of behavior related to being polite was unpredictable).

With those remaining thoughts, Alfred gave a stern but approving nod at the pale-blond-haired man, and both of them retreated from the alleys, their footsteps fading as night beckoned upon them.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or its characters. I only own the plot.**

* * *

 **Golden Eagle**

* * *

 **Chapter Two**

 **The Sinful**

* * *

Alfred felt his heart pumping as the wind beated against his skin and hair, his feet gripping onto the stirrups as the man in front of him held the reins with a hard grip, guiding the black-maned horse to their destination. Alfred is having a hard time trying not to shiver from the cold air touching his skin, since he can't find any clothes while they escaped the town, so Alfred was holding on for his life while shirtless, freezing to death – and Alfred hated the outcome God made for him.

"Where are we going?" Alfred asked the blond, who was still focused on the road as they entered into a forest, light becoming scare from the barrier of thick branches and leaves blocking the limited glow from the moon.

"Somewhere," the man responded bluntly, which annoyed Alfred from how vague he answered.

"If you're not going to tell me anything, then what about your name? I can't just follow a stranger without even knowing their name," Alfred demanded, his eyes dashing around a little since the atmosphere became eerie from how the wind was producing tiny whistles near the leaves, the trees giving off sinister shadows, and the dirt path twisting with gnarled branches and sharp rocks.

The man looked annoyed as his hands bit their nails into the leather of the reins. "Fine, it's Ivan."

Alfred, who wasn't satisfied with the answer, nodded. "So, Ivan, tell me about yourself." Ivan raised his eyebrow in inquiry at the question. "Just something to ask to pass the time."

Ivan sighed at that, trying to ignore the blonde behind him while he rode, avoiding anything obstructive. The blonde was more of a nuisance than he had expected, he thought he would need the help of escaping ruthless police just as a sign of appreciation for him unintentionally helping him with the guards. If he continued his senseless questions, then Ivan wasn't going to be happy, and with the latest events with the guards didn't brighten his mood.

"I am not going to tell a stranger about my personal information," Ivan told him with a strained voice, Alfred looking at him impatiently.

"Come on bro, then what can you tell me?" Alfred asked, with Ivan feeling a headache forming as he tried to focus on leading the horse to their destination.

"The only thing I can tell you is that I am saving you from the guards, and if you don't silence yourself I will not be guilty for your murder, yes?" Ivan asked with a eerie smile, but Alfred wasn't aware of it as he sighed.

"Alright, I'll be quiet," Alfred stated, looking around at the forest, squinting at the surroundings that change, their speed making it hard for Alfred to see the tiny details of nature that encircled him. With the lack of information Alfred has obtained from the stubborn man, he predicted that it would take hours to get to where they're suppose to be, which horrified Alfred from the thoughts of eternal waiting.

Ivan rolled his eyes when he felt Alfred's growing despair, and knew that he should do something before Alfred emits a dark atmosphere big enough to block his vision of the road. "What about you?"

Alfred looked up at Ivan, frowning a little. "Me?"

"Yes, you. What's your name? Where did you come from? I don't want you moping throughout all this," Ivan claimed, making Alfred look at him with disbelief.

"So I get to tell you my personal life, but not yours?"

Ivan had to bite his lower lip to force the temptation of strangling the blonde down, giving a groan. "Alright, what do you suggest? Ride in silence or waste some time as we wait?"

Alfred narrowed his eyes at him, but didn't argue. "Alright, it's better than arguing with you." Ivan had to agree to that to himself. "First off, I don't think you know my name. It's Alfred F. Jones, a cargo worker of a merchant named Angus, and I'm pretty sure he's pissed off that I am not present to do my job." Alfred sighed at the thought of his scruffy boss, waiting in the morning with three crates full of wood, a vexed expression clearly written on his face.

"It would be better to have more job opportunities than having none at all," Ivan mused as he exited the borders of the forest as Alfred continued.

"To be honest, I don't remember much from my past. Too much headaches and questions," Alfred noted. "The only thing I know is that I have been penniless for my entire life, and I was able to get the current job with Angus, but I knew that I was going to get fired from screwing something up anyways. Apparently this is what's getting me fired: being seen as a criminal for no apparent reason, and running away from the law."

Ivan could hear the melancholy in Alfred's voice, his eyes staring in front of him in a blind gaze. Ivan was questioning Alfred, his past was vague at best, but Ivan was wondering what happened to Alfred from curiosity, although he was suspicious if Alfred lied or not. Ivan then shook his head, the thought of Alfred lying was unpredictable, unless he did it to show him what it feels to feel frustration over something unclear as payback for his answers to him a few minutes back was more plausible.

"Like I said, more professions than none," Ivan reminded him, making Alfred groan in annoyance. "Besides, you could always go to being a thief, or –."

"If you say what I think you're saying, then no," Alfred said with disgust. "I'll never go that low for money."

"I was about to say being hired as a hitman or a mercenary, but that works too," Ivan interjected, shrugging the unnatural expression Alfred worn, and decided to focus on the road until they're there.

"Also, you're getting me a new shirt, I didn't have enough time to grab one," Alfred muttered, and Ivan sighed. He knew he would say that.

* * *

 **~Golden Eagle~**

* * *

Ivan felt his eyelids shutting, but immediately opened them as he almost crashed the horse at a tree, the body of a sleeping Alfred colliding with his back from the abrupt stop Ivan did to stop the horse just in time before the three of them slammed with the bark. Ivan gave an inaudible yawn as he guided the horse along the dirt path of the mountains that trailed to the upper parts of the peaks, the moon dipping back into the mountains as the sun began to rise from its slumber, nestled between hills decorated with vibrant grass and trees.

Ivan felt envious of Alfred for his five hours of sleep, since Ivan felt like crashing against a bed of rocks just to get his sleep, but he knew that he must continue, ignoring the need for sleep as he motioned his horse to carry forward. The horse was also tired too, from how slow the horse was going with its body looking like a slumped piece of mess. Ivan didn't blame it, but he knew that he has to get back to the cave before he closes his eyes or both of them will be dead from a misstep.

Ivan saw the opening of the cave between the cleft of two pinnacles, getting off the weary horse, and it slowly trotted into the small opening of the cave, and collapsed inside. Alfred was still on its back, sleeping. Ivan sighed at Alfred, he had guessed that he was a heavy sleeper as he entered the cave also. The grey rock foundation of the inside expanding as he noticed the burnt cinders of an extinguished fire in the center, remembering how cold it could be in the mountains, knowing that Alfred needed clothes. It wasn't his fault that the guards took his upper clothing, but if he didn't, then he wouldn't be able to sterilize the wound. Ivan shook his head at the carefree smile Alfred had when he slept, looking around the cave for a leather sack he hid.

Ivan noticed the leather sack in a corner of the cave, walking over to it with a brisk pace, unlatching the belt to look around for appropriate clothing. Ivan took out a grey tunic, walking over to Alfred's sleeping figure, shifting his body violently to disturb his sleep. Ivan noted the black mark on his chest, a tattoo of an eagle in flight to be specific. It's wings flaring, its pupil dilated as its body lunged. Ivan moved his focus to Alfred again, ignoring the tattoo for now, the question of where he got the mark saved for later. "Alfred, wake up."

Alfred moaned as he opened his eyes, getting off the warm body of the sleeping horse. Alfred wiped his eyes of any eye crust, his voice almost raspy. "Ivan, what?"

Ivan was surprised he didn't have a hard time waking him up. "You need your shirt, get up," he instructed, with Alfred groaning in displeasure.

"But it's only five," he argued, trying to lie down again, but Ivan stopped him.

"Wear it so you don't die from hypothermia," Ivan claimed. "It can be cold in the mountains. Unless you want to actually die by hypothermia, then suit yourself."

Alfred's head perked up at his statement, grabbing the tunic from a satisfied Ivan. The grey tunic wore loosely around America's upper body, going under his hips with a few centimeters. "Your clothes are too big," Alfred noted.

"What do you expect with my body size compared to yours?" Ivan asked him, with Alfred's reply being a sigh.

"So, where are we?" Alfred questioned, looking around the cave.

"A hiding place. Better than hiding in a town that could know your face anytime," Ivan told, looking around for the supply of wood he had stored in the cave. "The soldiers will not find us, and that's what counts."

Alfred stared at Ivan as he found the stack of wood near a axe that was polished and shined that Ivan must have done some time earlier. Ivan grabbed the axe and placed a piece of wood vertically on the floor, lifting the axe and chopping one-third of the wood free with a clean strike. Ivan took the small piece of wood and placed it between the ring of rocks in the center of the cave, placing tinder and twigs around it.

"I don't get it, why are you hiding?" Alfred pondered, with Ivan walking around for a bag of solid sap with the size of marbles for the fire as a firestarter, listening to what Alfred was saying. "Tell me, why do people see me as a criminal? What happened when you found me?"

"I found you," Ivan muttered to himself as he took three balls of solid sap and placed it on the base of the tinder. "I couldn't leave you there alone with a bleeding shoulder. I'm not that cruel."

Alfred almost scoffed at that, remembering Ivan's threat of murdering him a few hours ago, although it could've been that both of them were depraved of sleep. "Did you see the wolf though?"

"No, I didn't see a wolf," Ivan spoke while glancing at the walls of the cave, which made Alfred suspicious. Ivan began the procedure of lighting the nest of dry twigs, solid sap, and bark shavings with a flint and a knife.

"You're lying," Alfred assumed, making Ivan raise his eyebrow a little.

"What is there to hide, yes?" Ivan grunted, focusing on trying to produce sparks from the tools in his hands, eyes narrowed in determination.

"There are many reason for you to hide it. You never gave me a valid reason on your actions," Alfred sighed, feeling the mane of the horse sleeping next to him. "Tell me, why would you hide the intentions of what you're doing? I demand an answer!"

"Again, I just met you, why would I tell a stranger?" Ivan asked him, ignoring his demands, which aggravated Alfred more.

"Why would a criminal like you help me?" Alfred almost growled at Ivan. He knew this was a bad idea. If Ivan was actually a dangerous man, then he knew he made his own grave by following him, and angering him to the point of ruthless decisions. "You must be connected. I just randomly saw these guards holding captive a wolf, which isn't native here, and after I defended myself from them, I am awoken in the sewers with a complete stranger, labeled as a criminal, and now I'm here."

Ivan exhaled, his breath becoming cool and wispy from the dropping temperature. "I wanted to make sure of something. Back when I found you in the alley, I was actually a thief – pickpocket, purse snatcher, etc – but I didn't want any violence, just a swift delivery of gold. I had to help you, who wouldn't want to help a guy that fainted from blood loss. It was a deep cut."

Alfred winced when he remembered the blade striking down deep into his shoulder, the unbearable pain left him unable to move his left arm temporarily because of the thoughts of agony fogging his mind. Alfred closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them to see that Ivan had started a fire, whiffs of smoke rising to the ceiling. He was silent, his fatigue becoming clear as he rested his head on the warm body of the horse as a pillow. Ivan noticed, and rested his head on the horse also.

"I want more questions to be answered tomorrow," Alfred yawned, turning his body to get relaxed. The questions in his head clouded him, and he knew that Ivan was avoiding answering them.

Ivan gave a frown as he closed his eyes. "Alright." Ivan could feel the wind picking up outside, and moved closer to the fire with caution. Hearing the immediate snores from the blonde next to him, Ivan began to ponder.

* * *

 **~Golden Eagle~**

* * *

Ludwig placed the iron helmet on his head, the eagle insignia of the Vlumanir Battalion proudly held in the front of the metal. Ludwig grimaced as the sun was rising, the multiple torches in the distance didn't soothe his chagrin. The moonlight shone on his youthful but scarred face, his frown almost permanent. Ludwig hesitated as he stood on the broken balcony, the ruins of the watchtower their own battleground for a few months now. When he heard that the Sinful have attacked this very watchtower, he knew that the first signs of chaos have begun, and the attack was just the beginning.

His commander, Filk Roberts, was the one to tell him that the northern watchtower in White Copper – the hold surrounded by endless forests and mountains – has been attacked, no soldiers left alive, just bleeding, mutilated corpses. Ludwig shuddered at the extreme detail Roberts reported to him, how their insides melted with gore and plasma, their bodies cold and heartless, literally as Roberts spoke how their autopsies told of their hearts being gone. That was a few months ago, and after that event came the attacks; many victims in burning villages in White Copper, the graphic scenes of burned bodies and how there was nothing left except for scrapped metals. With this came the rumors, many fearing the worst have told that they called the murderous forces as "Shadows", "Demons", and "Hellish Ghouls". Numerous told about the gruesome murders, and others thought it was the actions of a cult or a mass murderer, but many arguments contradict the statements.

While fear was spreading, reports of these malicious beings have been spotted in White Copper and The Pinnacle – another hold near White Copper, with the geography described as hills, plains, and marshes. This time, there was a survivor, one that clung to the earth with fear on his face; one who called those very monsters, the "Sinful". The men that have been sent to examine the autopsy of the body count have been surprised to see him near the watchtower, bleeding in the forest, unimaginable horror replaced with sad relief reflected from his immediate tears and erratic breathing. He told of the horrors he went through, giving his account of the monsters who attacked them in clear detail. He remembered the skin-shriveling body that had saliva similar to black tar, claws dark as charred remains, eyes soulless as the dead, teeth sharp as knives, and how their skeleton were shone through their ribs, arms, and legs.

That man was still in the Vlumanir Battalion, but Ludwig felt sympathy for him; how his teammates were killed right in front of him, how he was the first one to see "death" itself in form, and him having to face them again was like facing a phobia. He was present in the battlegrounds of the watchtower right now, ammo and guns at the ready, and it was common to see him tell his account of them in detail at the campfire – although it was frowned upon by Roberts, how he shook his hands while he retold the nightmares were noticed by Ludwig every time.

Ludwig walked off the balcony, the second floor of the watchtower was the only floor remaining as the rest were in a pile of shrapnel. Ludwig exited the broken watchtower, seeing groups of soldiers in attire similar to his walking by with guns lodged on their shoulders, many wearing wounds, scars, and bandages from brawls and old battles.

Ludwig noticed how the stone road near the watchtower was cut off with walls made of wood and stone, apparent stumps and quarries nearby. With the fear of the army of thousand Sinfuls on the horizon, the battalion hired engineers to make barricades and traps to give them an advantage over the Sinful, but the fact that they have to fight the horrifying creatures almost gave every soldier grim expressions, mostly for the death and pain that will begin.

Ludwig stored his weapons in the armory tent, so he didn't have to worry about polishing or finding it. With that thought, Ludwig saw his brother running up to him, his pale hair hidden in a helmet of the Vlumanir Battalion while he sauntered to Ludwig through thick sheets of snow.

"Hey Ludwig, where's your gun? They told us to get ready," Gilbert informed him, his gun resting on his shoulder protected by metal plating. "Those monsters are coming, although it's taking them too long; their walking is slower than I could ever imagine."

Ludwig nodded, the cold air of White Copper bristling his skin. "My guns are stored in the armory, although I feel vulnerable without it, so having a pistol doesn't hurt." Ludwig motioned to a pistol hidden in its sheath connected to his belt.

"Oh brother, you're always paranoid," Gilbert joked, walking over to one of the logs used as seats near the campfire, Ludwig joining him. "Even though we're in the military, you should try to relax. Why can't you be relaxed, so you could be awesome as me?"

Ludwig raised his eyebrow in irritation and inquiry. "If I ever was your definition of "awesome" then Thatos forbid if we destroy the universe." Gilbert snickered as Ludwig tensed his shoulders.

"That makes sense for two awesome brothers. The universe can't handle how amazing we are," Ludwig sighed as Gilbert began to ramble with fruitless conversations, but Ludwig noticed how some soldiers sitting on logs like them were crowding a man with interest and fear.

"Isn't that the guy that survived the attack?" Gilbert asked to Ludwig when he noticed where Ludwig was directing his vision at.

"Yes, he must be telling his account of that horrifying day again by request," Ludwig pointed out.

"Then what are we waiting for? I know you heard the story multiple times, but I didn't have the time to experience hearing something like this before," Gilbert instantly stood up and went closer to the group of soldiers, trying to hear what he's saying by cramming himself into the ring. Ludwig sighed as he followed, going into the circle of men to find his brother, apologizing to offended soldiers, and saw Prussia watching the man tell his story. Before Ludwig could lecture to his brother about being rude, Prussia shushed him as he listened with the others.

The man wore the usual wear – metal armor, leather belt, chain mail – his expression rather dark from his eyes being shaded with dark bags, his eyes almost looking bloodshot as he sat on a lone log. His ragged hair escaping from his helmet, his hands shaking a little as he heard the usual questions of "What did they look like?", "How did you encounter them?", and "How did you survive them?", his answers being thought out while he looked like he experienced pain as he strained his voice on painful explanations.

"Charred skeleton," he replied to a youthful soldier in his twenties. "Flesh so thin but looks like stretched-out rubber, pungent smell of blood and rotten flesh, eyes vacant. Death's servant in the flesh." He almost shuddered as he remembered the Sinful breathing on his neck, a cold chill always accompanying.

To the second question from an old man, he sighed as he recalled everything from detail, always showing that same fear when a man encounters death. "They just marched along White Copper's cobblestone roads like it was a regular day in this country. My men made the wrong choice of fighting them. Dale went by his heart, Rigby died by eternal pain from his stab wounds, Elj bled to death, and our leader, King, was **eaten**. I had no choice but to watch them do it." Tears almost escaped the man's eyes, Ludwig knowing all the information he spoke from his previous stories. Most of the crowd was wincing and grimacing, others also escaped the confines of the area to throw up in the nearby bushes in disgust.

"How did you survive?" another adolescent asked in the background, making the man sigh heavily.

"I was injured. Wounds on my stomach and arm, but I felt the painful surges as my wounds bled. My mind was racing that day, I was the nearest to the forest, and I just ran. I was going to die anyway from blood loss, so I prayed to Thatos that he'll spare me and my group. The Sinful didn't run for me, but I heard them hurting them. I failed my mission as a soldier, I left them to die."

" **I SHOULD'VE HELPED THEM!** " Ludwig and the rest were surprised as the man shouted into the sky, his eyes beginning to show cascades of tears from guilt, sadness, and pain. Ludwig saw so much emotion in those vulnerable eyes, it almost hurts. "I WENT INTO THIS DAMN MILITARY TO HELP OTHERS, BUT I FAILED!" The man collapsed onto the ground, his broken screams being heard. "I JUST FLED THROUGH THE NIGHT LIKE A COWARD, WHILE THEY SCREAMED IN PAIN AND AGONY! DALE, RIGBY, ELJ, KING, PLEASE FORGIVE ME."

The soldiers started to help the man who was sobbing relentlessly as he screamed into the sky. Ludwig looked at Gilbert, who had a pained emotion on his face. "It wasn't pretty to hear, wasn't it?"

Gilbert bit his lip as two medics transferred the man to the infirmary, his crying cutting the silence of the entire camp to a bleak atmosphere. A man in iron armor walked over, his dismayed expression watching every man with disgust. It was Filk.

"I told you not to give him another emotional breakdown," he proclaimed, his arms folded behind his back, shoulders and upper body tense. "This man had been in the battalion for most of his life. If you want him to have mental scars for his entire life every time you question him, then I'm not stopping you. But if you have mentally broke that man who went through death itself by saying your inquiry multiple times, then I have warned you many times to stop, and you ignored it." The commander stopped his disgusted shouting, and exhaled. "The time has come. The Sinful have arrived with their torches and weapons, ready to fight us at our doorstep. Get your weapons ready."

The entire army began their preparations. Guns were being polished and filled with ammunition. Ballistic weapons were being created. Swords were being sharpened on sharpening stones, kept hidden in their sheaths on their belts. Cannons were being stocked on raised platforms near piles of gunpowder. Explosive weapons being held in steel crates were being opened by crowbars. The watchtower and platforms had trained archers with arrows able to cut through flesh easily. Almost everything was prepared.

Ludwig went inside the armory tent, grabbing his musket and bayonet. Gilbert was also in the armory for the same reason, placing the knife into the belt. Both of the brothers knew it was coming, that evil was marching right into them with burning torches and bloody claws. They never faced the Sinful before, but now they will. They don't know if they're going to survive or not, but if it's for their country, Dashkir, then they will place their life on the line for the people.

Ludwig and Gilbert stood in the lines of determined warriors of the Vlumanir Battalion, muskets held high, ready for the faces of Sinful to come. Ludwig could see how Gilbert gave a sad smile as he saw the beginnings of the Sinful creatures. Countless torches held by their skeleton-like hands dropped to the snowy ground, extinguished when they drop into sheets of snow and ice. When they dropped it, they began to run. Different varieties of the Sinful ran on hind legs or on four, rushing to them, a few miles separating the battalion and those evil monstrosities. More torches in the crowds of the monsters were gone, their pace beginning to quicken.

"Archers!" a man ordered from the front of the army. "Infantry! Cavalry! **ATTACK!** " At that command, Ludwig and Gilbert knew that there was no going back.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own Axis Powers: Hetalia or its characters. I only own the plot.**

* * *

 **Golden Eagle**

* * *

 **Chapter Three**

 **Inner Spirit**

* * *

Arthur walked through the city, his bag filled with his ink, quill, and required equipment lodged on his back. He walked along the stone path of the city of Flos, his energy sapped from his job as an accountant. Arthur groaned at his heavy luggage, but continued with the positive note that he could relax at his home, with little sunshine left from the sleeping sun.

The city was still alive with people, bustling down the clean streets with carts, horses, and their own two feet. Dogs and cats of different color schemes gave the city vibrant sounds, as the lights from the opened buildings brightened the dark sky of purple, dark blue, yellow, and red. Arthur almost found it soothing enough to write it into a written format, but he will do it later as he maneuvered his way through the crowds.

The city was always populated to the thousands, but it sometimes gave difficulty for Arthur to get around, so he would rather take the alleys and shortcuts away from the open roads. It wasn't the case this time, since the guards warned the people of an increase in assaults and pickpocketing in the alleys, so no one was allowed there unless they have an escort, training in defense, or a specific reason – which was very vague at best. Arthur also feared being mugged or killed as well, but still took the risk multiple times as a shortcut from his home to his job.

Arthur could hear the current gossip of the city, more importantly, the departure of the Vlumanir Battalion a few days again. Ever since the identification of the "Sinful", the Battalion left the city with enough manpower to kill thousands, it felt comforting that the battalion will kill the Sinful and return peace to the Holds of Dashkir. The government never gave any information on what happened to them, but Arthur could tell that some worry about the outcome of the battles they have encountered.

"They have returned!" a gruff man in his thirties announced somewhere behind Arthur, with groups of surprised and excited people stopping their tracks, running over to the eastern gate that began to open its stone entrance, many awaiting for men proudly coming back with cleaned wounds and spirit. When the men entered countless men and women stopped smiling, the outcome was different than they expected. Arthur entered the crowd, trying to look through the barrage of bodies in front of him. When he was successful in gaining a view of the soldiers walking through the gate, he gasped silently. Only a few walked past – only in the hundreds, many battered and wounded, their walk accompanied with limping as Arthur noticed how most of their wounds weren't treated, with the soldiers with legs bending at an unusual angle were supported by another.

"This can't be good," Arthur spoke the statement under his breath as most of the crowd that were standing on either side of the entrance were now flooding the hundred soldiers with questions and claims, many interrogating them on what happened and what happened to their family relatives that have been involved in the battle. The soldiers ignored the panic, anger, and sadness in their voices, walking down the street to the military's headquarters near the government's building as they were followed by frantic people, having to be cut off by the military's forces as the remaining men of the Vlumanir Battalion returned with solemn news. Arthur knew the dreaded outcome without even hearing it.

The Vlumanir Battalion has failed. The Sinful are advancing into the hold of Aevum. Their intent unknown but malicious.

* * *

 **~Golden Eagle~**

* * *

Ludwig sighed in relief as the bombardment of violent questions was cut off with the shut of the gate behind him, the rest of the battalion going to the infirmary with the wounded. Ludwig held the wounded body of Gilbert, giving him to the medics as they placed him on the stretcher, his wounds apparent on his stomach and shoulder while they lifted him to the infirmary. Ludwig grimaced as he was summoned to the general's office, his hands grasping at his splayed strands of hair while the general asked him questions behind his oak desk.

"Ludwig, I want to ask some questions about what happened; most of the surviving soldiers are heavily wounded, and you don't seem to be bleeding profusely like them," Ludwig gave an inaudible sigh as the eyes of the general scanned him. "Would you be kind enough to answer the following questions on what happened?"

Ludwig nodded as he lifted his head up to look directly at the general. "Yes, of course, sir."

"Alright, first off, I want to know how much were the casualties. What disadvantage did we have?" the general asked while he took out a piece of paper, quill in hand as he waited for Ludwig's answer.

"Our disadvantage was that we were ambushed, more like a pincer movement to be exact. Our sides weren't defended, so they caught us off guard, distracted enough for the front forces to attack," the general began to write down every single word Ludwig spoke, with Ludwig trying to forget how much blood was spilt that very day.

"Second, do you know anything about the Sinful's routes into the country? If you don't know, then I could ask another," Ludwig pondered a little about the subject. They retreated into the forest before the Sinful were able to kill them, so Ludwig wasn't able to know their routes throughout the hold's terrain. With that, he shook his head, making the general frown.

"Don't worry, when the others have awoken with less wounds, then I'll question them. I just have one more question, if you will?" Ludwig nodded as he awaited for the final answer so that he could go and rest near Prussia's bedside. "What was the body count?"

With that, Ludwig replied. "Three-fourths of our army has been killed, the estimated will be fifteen-thousand, but I'm not sure about the clear amount." The general closed his eyes in momentary thought.

"Thank you for your presence in my office, Mr. Beilschmidt, it's nice to know you and the rest are alive," Ludwig nodded, standing up from his chair, walking to the door to exit the room.

"Atleast that scarred man died peacefully," he heard the general mutter to himself in a somber tone, Ludwig's eyes narrowing a little as he exited the room with a negative note.

Ludwig entered the infirmary, the sounds of doctors, nurses, and clinking of needles and utensils welcoming him with no pleasant sight. The tired and wounded bodies of the soldiers with dry blood splotches on the floor with messy footprints were haunting, but Ludwig was able to walk over to a nurse.

"Where's Gilbert?" the nurse blinked at his question, pointing at the direction of a white bed with a man on top of it, steady breathing and hissing occurring in a repetitive pace. Ludwig gave his appreciation to the nurse, walking over to Gilbert's bed.

The sight of his brother, his wounds cleaned but parts of his arm's flesh ripped off, made him angry and revolted, the thought of how the wretched claw teared it off with Gilbert screaming almost gave him nightmares. Ludwig saw how the arm that had missing flesh was wrapped in bandages, the arm almost looking lifeless as it laid on Gilbert's side. Ludwig grabbed the arm of a lone chair next to Gilbert's bed, moving it so that he sat on it next to his brother's side, waiting for him to wake up.

* * *

 **~Golden Eagle~**

* * *

Alfred sighed as they walked around the city, following Ivan as he picked out fruits, vodka, and bread from different market stands, his hood covering his pale hair – a hood similar to Alfred that Ivan forced him to use.

"I don't get it, if you live in the mountains with a fire and all, why can't you hunt your food?" Alfred asked Ivan after he gave some copper to a woman running a bread stall, his left arm holding three loafs of bread.

"The mountains don't have enough animals to hunt, even the hold we live in has scarce sources of animals, so it's best if we buy our source of nutrition without being inconspicuous," Ivan responded, giving Alfred one of the loafs of bread, rolling his eyes when he heard Alfred's loud process of eating it, making him notice how others are staring at him with weirded out expressions. 'I don't think we'll be unnoticed for long with Alfred's obnoxious tendencies,' Ivan thought as Alfred finished the bread like he never ate anything in months.

"Dude, that was really good," Alfred praised, with Ivan sighing as they walked around the stalls.

"You ate few hours ago," Ivan muttered to himself, with Alfred hearing him with a look of disbelief.

"Eating hard bread and bugs from trees isn't food, it's torture," Alfred grumbled with Ivan going up to a fruit stand for apples and bananas. "How do you even live there?"

"By not complaining and feeling grateful for what I found," Ivan chided, grabbing two apples and bananas, one silver out from his pocket. "Which you don't possess."

Alfred scoffed as they exited the market place. "Have you been on a merchant ship for six years?"

Ivan sighed as he ignored his comment, walking around the city of Flos for awhile as his ears heard interesting gossip when they walked near talking citizens. Since Ivan never heard any rumors or events happening throughout the holds for quite a while, it would be best to get recently updated information just in case. With that, Ivan moved a little closer to the two ladies talking to each other in vibrant clothes and accessories, their appearance reminding Ivan of a noble life with countless amount of gold.

"Have you seen the Vlumanir Battalion? They were just destroyed, it's horrifying to see."

"I know. If one of the most strongest armies could be that easily demolished, then pray to Thatos that the Sinful will give us mercy."

Ivan was surprised by this news, he never heard of this frantic information before. He knew what the Sinful were – monsters that have dark, wrinkled skin with their hands looking like sharpened, bloody glass – and how they were beginning to penetrate into the holds of Hashkir. Ivan heard they were beginning to spread into Aevum, how they were already terrorizing White Copper, the main city holding against the forces as most of their minor cities were collapsing from attacks. Ivan also heard about the Vlumanir Battalion, but never heard of them failing against the Sinful. Ivan sighed as he continued his walk.

"The Sinful defeated the Vlumanir Battalion?" Alfred asked, some panic in his voice. Ivan didn't blame him; the accounts of what happened also gave Ivan some numb thoughts.

"It appears so, rather surprising," Ivan mused, not noticing how he bumped into another, enough for the man to fall over with him cursing like a sailor.

"Bloody hell!" the man shouted as he stood up again in an angry fashion, grasping at the materials that spilled out of his bag, glaring at Alfred and Ivan. "Watch where you're going, it's rather rude to bump into someone without even saying their apologies!"

Ivan frowned at how this man made the surrounding people look at them with amusement or negativity. "I'm sorry mister, I was just in deep thought, yes."

Arthur grumbled as he placed all his loose items into his bag, walking away with an irritated tone. Ivan sighed as he gave a last look at the blonde man, walking away with Alfred snickering.

"And you call me ignorant," Alfred gave him the snide comment, disregarding Ivan's glare that meant instant death.

"At least I gained some positive news with that unexpected occurrence," Ivan smirked as he held out a leather pouch, making Alfred widen his eyes at the heavy bag. "One hundred fifty silver as a favorable outcome to be exact."

Alfred grimaced at how much was in the pouch. "I didn't think he deserved his money to be stolen, his appearance tells me he is poor. You can't just do that, Ivan."

Ivan sighed. "Yes, but it's better to keep it; he has a house, but we don't have one. It's for the best." Alfred glowered at the thought of stealing, but stayed silent as they walked around.

Alfred was still uncertain of Ivan, even after hours of persuading him that he wasn't dangerous still made him unsure. Ivan never shown any malicious intent, only threats that were just reactions to some comments Alfred spouted that offended him, but Alfred still remembered about the wolf, trying to get his head around everything that didn't make sense to him. How did Ivan find him? Was it pure coincidence? Why did the guards attack him without warning? Why was a wolf in Raulf, a town in a hold that doesn't inhabit wolves? This is why Alfred can't trust Ivan. He never gave him the satisfying answers to those very questions. Alfred wanted to ask him about it, but he seemed to be focused on something.

"The guards are coming, hide," Ivan ordered Alfred in a hushed voice, pushing him to a nearby alley to his left, propelling him deep enough for the guards to not notice them as their figures walked away unaware of their presence.

"The streets are too dangerous, it would be better to be walking around in the alleys," Ivan advised to Alfred, who was trying to regain his balance from Ivan's unexpected shoves.

"You should've warned me before using that much strength," Alfred grunted a little as he looked around the dirty alleys, remembering how the path way was similar to when he found the guards with the wolf.

"We need to get to the Eastern gate, we don't want to run by the guards," Ivan explained to Alfred, walking deeper into the intertwining paths of the alleys, with Alfred behind him in deep thought.

"But why?" Alfred asked, making Ivan abruptly stop to look at him with a quizzical expression. "Tell me, why do we have to run away from the law? Why am I wrapped into this? You never told me!" Ivan sighed as Alfred rose his voice at him with the last sentence.

"It's hard to explain, I have told you that I can't tell you, you're still a stranger," Ivan argued, with Alfred knowing that this was enough.

"You trust a stranger that could run away any moment to get guards to arrest you, or could easily kill you. Tell me, why is it such a secret to not tell me why you're helping me?"

Ivan bit his lip. "I need to know if that mark is true."

Alfred was about to reply, but stopped when he heard Ivan's answer. He thought Ivan would respond with a threat or a comment that derails from the topic, but not something like this. "What?"

"That eagle mark on your chest, where did you get that?" Ivan asked him, his face telling Alfred that Ivan was serious. Alfred knew about the mark on his chest – the eagle mark in black that was styled with bold, sharp lines – but he only thought of it as a birthmark he gained, so his confusion on why Ivan wanted to know about the birthmark made his inner con fusion grow.

"It's a birthmark. Dude, stop with your serious face, it makes me look like I said something wrong," Alfred didn't know why Ivan was beginning to have a pondering look, wondering what he just said that made Ivan so intrigued. Alfred then heard the sound of crashing pots, his head jerking to the direction of the noise. Ivan also heard the sound as he looked at Alfred.

Alfred immediately ran to the source of the noise, his thoughts running as he looked around. Ivan didn't notice the warning the guards gave them when they entered about the alleys, but Alfred knew that someone was being mugged or assaulted at this very second, his feet traveling him to his destination to save the person who was at the hands of a thief or thug. With that thought, Alfred kept running until he noticed two bodies pinning down a figure to a wall, the first thug pointing a knife at the person's neck. They wore dirty leather and fabric, grim smirks on their faces as both of them held daggers.

The two thugs didn't notice Alfred, so they didn't interrupt their taunting with the skinny man in their grasp. "Only fifty silver, you lied." The first one growled as he pocketed the amount into his pocket.

"I didn't lie, I swear I had two hundred!" the familiar voice struck Alfred as he remembered the man who Ivan bumped into. Through further inspection, the man had the similar bright clothing he wore on the streets, but now it was dirtied from dirt and blood. His blonde hair was unkempt, his face scrunched up from how close the knife was near his throat.

"I don't care if you had two hundred or fifty, either way you die; it's better to cover up to make sure you don't rat us out," the second thug barked at the man.

Alfred looked around for anything as a weapon, his eyes finding the shards of old clay pots on the ground. Knowing that the shards won't kill them but distract them, Alfred threw a shard at the first thug, the thug's unawareness his advantage as the shard hit him on the head. The man hissed as he let go of the blonde, pressing his hand to his temple, his eyes dashing to Alfred with angry eyes.

"You son of a bitch!" the thug yelled out as he advanced to Alfred with his dagger, thrusting it at him with quick reflexes. Alfred evaded the blade with rapid footing, eyeing the sharp metal with his blood and mind moving in intense repetition. The thug repeated his actions of trying to plunge the dagger into Alfred's flesh, but Alfred avoided touching the metal like it was lava. Alfred sidestepped away from the weapon, his hands grabbing the hilt before the thug could react, pulling it out of his grasp and Alfred propelled the blade into the thug's neck. The thug began to choke as blood split from his jugular, his body crashing to the ground, his face becoming pale as the blood exited his body.

Alfred exhaled as he shivered from the criminal's blood slivering down his skin, his arm hair standing up. Alfred felt an immediate force crashing him to the ground, his head pushed up from how his body was positioned to crash down to the filthy floor. Alfred felt cold metal pressuring against his neck, his eyes dashing between the reinforced iron and the sharp eyes of the second thug that held him against the dirt. He could feel the dagger beginning to cut the first layers of flesh on his neck, sudden fear becoming apparent in his eyes. The thug smiled as he noticed the terror reflected in his pupils. Alfred felt weak as the stings of pain began as blood started to seep from the growing cut that went deeper into his cervix, his blood pumping faster as the knife in his hand was held down by a hand stronger than him.

Alfred's eyes stared at the manic face of the thug, realizing that the man that was being harassed by them was coughing on the ground in pain, which made Alfred wince. His thoughts were running as his mind flashed to an image, more like a figure hidden among blinding light from an unknown, he didn't know what happened, but he began to scream as his frame was in intense heat, how his vision flashed to white multiple times as he struggled against the "fire" consuming his appendages. His eyes forced shut as the last of the burning agony stopped, feeling weightless as he opened his eyes, becoming panicked as his vision changed. He could see everything, the bugs gnawing on a insect's dead body, each spec of material used on the alley's walls, and the confused face of the thug as he looked around for the missing body of the him, since his body wasn't on the floor anymore. Alfred didn't know what happened, but he could feel how his body twisted his insides, with the burning sensation dying down, but his fear increased from all of the questions forming in his head on what happened to him. His vision became more sharp, noticing how detailed the world became. It was frightening but incredible to him how focused his surroundings are.

Alfred then realized that he wasn't on the ground but on the ledge of a building, his "legs" clutching onto the stone ridge as he noticed that the alley ground has grown by his perception. He didn't know what happened to him, but it's for the best not to question it as the thug is still looking for him with his dagger that gleamed with drops of his blood.

"Where the hell are you?! Your witchcraft won't work on me!" the thug shouted through the alleys, his growls becoming more malicious as he stopped and looked at his dead partner. "You were an idiot anyway." With that, the thug grabbed the dagger of Alfred that fell on the floor – with Alfred not remembering losing his grasp on it, walking over to the blonde man that was on his knees, still coughing.

"Dammit, he got away," the man cursed, staring down at the vulnerable blonde who tried to stand up, but began to cough harder in pain from how the thug kicked him in the stomach with such force that Alfred cringed. "Did you really think that I forgot about you? That bastard may have escaped, but it's better to finish what must be done." The blonde gave out a small growl as he tried to push the thug away, but the act was futile as the dirty-ragged male held his collar with a tight grip, enough to make his knuckles white.

Alfred widened his eyes as the thug took out one of his daggers, the metal about to direct itself to the man's heart. The blonde began to struggle against the thug as he gave one last cruel smile before he forced his arm to plunge the blade into the man's heart.

Before Alfred could react, a figure tackled the criminal to the ground, a second before the weapon rammed itself to the blonde's chest. The thug bellowed in pain as familiar claws scratched at his face, teeth baring at him with amethyst eyes. The dirty fur of the wolf clinging to the body of the criminal, sharp appendages able to tear the fabric of the thug's shirt off. The thug howled in pain as he tried to plunge his dagger into the wolf in a frantic pace, but the wolf jumped off of him before he struck any flesh. The thug inhaled through ragged breaths, his chest bleeding from rigid marks that seeped red.

The wolf clung his claws to the filthy ground, eyes staring at the thug with sharp perception. The man than lunged at the wolf, his arm guiding the knife to the wolf's chest, with the wolf evading the metal with swift footing as the two danced in deadly struggle. It only ended when the thug stumbled upon his own feet, his eyes going wide as the wolf pounced at him, its incisors directing to the thug's neck as it pushed the thug to the ground. What Alfred saw terrified him, his mind couldn't erase what he saw next as he just stood on the ledge; the way the man screamed as the wolf tore into his neck's flesh made him want to scream and close his eyes, but for some reason he couldn't, he just watched at how the wolf ripped off the skin with ease, his eyes never looking away.

Alfred felt like the agonizing scene was going on for eternity, but it finally stopped after the thug became silent, the wolf walking away from the body that was beginning to be surrounded by a pool of blood. The wolf had signs of the gory event around its jaws, cold eyes staring at the terrified body of the victim of the thugs, who Alfred could tell was in fear of the wolf from its bloody display.

Before Alfred could blink, the wolf looked up to see him, his eyes reflecting the cold pupils of the wolf, but Alfred saw some emotions in those purple irises that he never compared to a blood-thirsty creature; he almost saw reassurance in the sharp pools, never seeing a creature that lost doubts or fears before, so Alfred was surprised at how it just stopped and noticed him with the reassured expression like it was happy that he was okay.

Light began to illuminate Alfred's vision, his eyes shutting down from how the illumination almost pierced his sharp eyeballs like it was the recreation of the sun. When the intense glow died down for Alfred to readjust his eyes, he almost fell off the edge. Ivan was standing where the wolf once was, his body and mostly his mouth covered in blood, with him scrunching his face in utter disgust as he used his hands to try to wipe off the blood with futile attempts. What Alfred was surprised of the most was how Ivan was so calm about the situation, how he just rubbed most of the blood off without screaming or cursing, it's like he was use to these types of circumstances.

Ivan also wore his regular clothes that were rubbed in filth, his annoyed face taking off his scarf to make sure no blood drips onto it as he looked at the blonde man in the alley. "They're not a threat to you anymore, yes. You could run along back to your home." Alfred was flabbergasted at how relaxed he was, but before he could move, Ivan's head lifted itself up to Alfred's direction, amusement on his face.

"Looks like my hunches were right, I don't think I need to lie to you anymore, eagle," Alfred widened his eyes at how Ivan was too entertained to not care how his enjoyment seeped out of his voice. He wanted answers now, and suddenly, Alfred realized the situation he was in as he tried to move.

Wings made of broad, dark brown feathers replaced Alfred's missing arms, his "legs" now made of broad muscle and sharp talons, and how his chest puffed with a mix of dark brown and white made him almost stumble upon realization. Ivan gave another amused smirk at how Alfred was scrambling around on his talons in panic, his eagle body making the display complete entertainment for the pale-blond.

"Alfred, unless you want to accidentally fall off the ledge, I want you to stop so I could get you," Ivan explained, with Alfred stopping his actions to hear his clear instructions, but was unsure of how Ivan could get him down from the fifteen feet barrier between him and the ground. Alfred was also still horrified from the connection between the wolf and Ivan, so caution was still his second priority as he tried to nod his head to Ivan's orders.

Ivan then realized the problem of his instructions, with him blinking at the wall that held Alfred's eagle body. "You were able to fly to the ledge, so I think you can do it again."

Alfred felt his body tense up from the fact that Ivan wanted him to fall to his death, and with that thought Alfred clung to the ledge with the thoughts of safety. Ivan sighed in irritation at Alfred's reluctance, shaking his head a little. "Alfred, just do it, I will catch you if anything else fails."

Alfred almost glared at him with hostility, but Ivan looked sincere about it, anticipating Alfred's descent or failed descent – the latter making Alfred cringe at the possibility. With nothing but his own back to save him, Alfred inhaled and exhaled in heavy breathes, trying to move his wings that began to beat with the wind forcing against his body. Alfred then jumped, his legs propelling him to the sky, his body moving as he felt air pressing against his body while in the sky. Before he knew it, he felt weightless as the breeze pushed his figure forward through the atmosphere, gliding through the welkin until he dropped to the ground from a sudden descent.

"You're not transforming back, we'll have to teach you later," Ivan muttered to himself as he placed Alfred onto his shoulder, ignoring how agitated Alfred was in his eagle form.

Everything was going too fast; too much questions were being unanswered. Alfred's frustration over Ivan almost reached its limit, but he can't yell at him without it just being replaced with intense screeches. Alfred was unable to think properly from how much information is being processed in his cranium, trying to comprehend everything that just happened in the last few minutes – although Alfred didn't know the exact time between him turning into an eagle, and the wolf.

Ivan looked down to see the blonde man on the ground, fear on his face as he tried to stand up. "You need help there?"

The blonde shook his head furiously. He didn't forget how the man replaced the body of the wolf that attacked one of the thugs easily, and how there's still some blood on Ivan's clothes, which made it worse for his case. "No! Why would I go with someone that does black magic?! I don't want to die!"

Ivan clicked his tongue in amusement. "We're not going to hurt you, I just want to know if you need help with standing up or handling your wounds."

The man shook his head. "No, I'm fine. I just want to go home, so don't hurt me."

Ivan disregarded the man's last statement as he kneeled next to him with a smile. "Show me your wounds."

The blonde grit his teeth at how Ivan placed a hand on his stomach, inspecting the bruise from getting kicked by a boot. Ivan also noticed how he had some small cuts decorating his hands. Without saying anything to the pale-blond, Ivan remembered how his alcohol was dropped somewhere when he entered the scene.

"Alfred, look around for my vodka I dropped from shopping," Ivan instructed the eagle on his shoulder, who just stared at him incredulously. "It's alcohol, it will be used for the wounds." Alfred was reluctant as he took flight once more, his inexperience showing from how tense his wings are as he flew away from the scene.

"While we wait, what's your name?" Ivan asked the man, examining the tiny cuts that trickled red liquid on his hands.

"Arthur," he replied, wincing at how Ivan's fingers pressed against the cuts.

"Ivan," Ivan exchanged, wiping away the blood from his hands. When Alfred came back, having a hard time holding onto the vodka bottle with his talons, Ivan grabbed the bottle before it dropped to the floor. Ivan opened the alcoholic drink, slowly letting the fluid drip down onto the cuts on Arthur's hands.

Arthur immediately convulsed in pain, groans of agony forming from his throat from the searing pain the alcohol produced when it touched his open wounds. Ivan didn't wince from how Arthur shown his pain through his expressions, cleaning the cuts before it got infected, ripping out pieces of his clothing to cover the injuries when he noticed that he didn't have any bandages or gauze in his pockets.

"Arthur, the pain will stop in just a few seconds," Ivan reassured him while placing the cap back onto the vodka bottle. Arthur's only response was a stiff nod, inhaling air in enormous amounts as he tried to focus away from the pain, his muscles beginning to loosen much to Ivan's satisfaction.

Alfred was still on Ivan's shoulder, trying to balance himself from how much Ivan moved his upper body through different actions and tasks. Ivan sighed as he looked at the eagle on his shoulder, mixed emotions clouding its once-sharp orbs. Ivan almost forgot about Alfred's eagle form, and with how Arthur is still healing his wounds, it would be best to find a way to turn Alfred back to normal, since he wouldn't be happy if he stayed in that uncomfortable position for most of his life.

"Alfred, try to will yourself to return back to your human form," Ivan told him, but for Alfred it was nonsense. Alfred was baffled on how blunt and ridiculous the instructions were, but knew arguing about this in this type of body won't help him, so doing what Ivan said was the only option in these circumstances.

"Before you do that do it on the floor, I don't want to be crushed by your weight," Ivan warned, though Alfred saw it as an intentional insult as he jumped off Ivan's shoulder, enough space around him to "return to his human form". Alfred closed his eyes, his mind repeating a demand that almost echoed throughout the darkness, trying to ignore how fruitless thoughts of Ivan's ludicrous statements that tried to break his concentration. After a few seconds his body was heating up, the darkness being illuminated by searing lights, but it didn't hurt like last time, it felt like a numb sensation, then the lights were gone as quickly as they came.

Alfred felt something twist inside him, and opened his eyes, blinking numerous times to stop the sharp effect of the eagle's eyes, which started to disappear after a few seconds. His eyes analyzed his limbs, how they were now arms and legs than wings and stern muscle and talon, the familiar feeling of control over them soothing his aching appendages. Alfred felt relief that he was back to normal, and how his vocal cords are back to make him talk. "Ivan, I want answers."

Ivan sighs in a joking manner. "Still persistent even after being turned into a bird."

Alfred scowled at Ivan, looking at him with a serious expression. "Ivan, this is serious. What happened to me? No more unanswered questions."

Ivan sighed as he placed the gauze and vodka away. "Fine, and Arthur would be involved in this as well."

"What? Why me?" Arthur questioned, looking between them with confusion. "Your black magic will not be involved with me. I have a life, and I want to return to it."

"Yes, but the mark on your stomach tells me that you're going to have to know what we're talking about," Ivan mumbled, remembering the extra detail when he inspected Arthur's bruise on his stomach.

"My birthmark? What does that have anything to do with this situation?!" Arthur shouted at him, with Ivan exhaling a sigh.

"The sign that you're different than the others; how your blood is unique from the start," Ivan explained, moving his left sleeve, revealing a birthmark similar to Alfred's. It had the same art style, with the figure of a wolf staring into the distance with an unknown glance. "We possess a power that many see as "black magic". The power to transform into an animal bestowed upon you by the mark on your skin. A spirit animal. A connection to the inner beast."


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I don't own Axis Powers: Hetalia or its characters, I only own the plot.**

* * *

 **Golden Eagle**

* * *

 **Chapter Four**

 **Proposal**

* * *

Alfred thought of those fairy tales told under the illuminating stars; the stories explaining of guardians, monsters, and even anti-heroes that go through journeys of peril. How they slashed at the vital points of serpents or griffons, and how they can walk on air or water with ease. It was a fairy tale that Alfred always adored, but there was one thing he knew, they weren't real. Heroes were real from how they fought against threats like opposing empires from a distant land and creatures made of rough leather and teeth, but they never held powers like immense strength or telekinesis. Harnessing the power of an inner animal form was similar to those tales, but it was reality than fantasy, it wasn't a dream he could try to wake up from; the situation was real.

"No, that's rubbish!" Arthur's aggravated voice almost made Alfred jump as Arthur walked over to Ivan in a heavy manner. "That type of power is evil; do you even know the consequences for killing those two without remorse?!"

"Are you suggesting you wanted those criminals to kill you? That would be rather nice to see, but I don't think being suicidal is the right time," Ivan replied with a dry cough, with Arthur twitching his eyebrow in irritation. "I want to know why you were roaming around the alleys without a weapon to defend yourself, unless you were too stupid to think that short cuts between different routines was a good idea." Arthur's angry face turned a reddish tint, with him stuttering his tongue.

"I don't need that! What about you; telling yourself that you're an idiot with your statement?!," Ivan gave a frown while Alfred almost leaked out a snicker from his throat.

"Other than you, our intentions going through the alleys is more significant than yours," he retorted, his eyes not moving away its attention from Arthur.

"Yours!? I have a normal life than you two! You are a bunch of criminals running from the damn law!" Arthur shouted at them, his eyes irate and afraid.

Before Alfred can react, a sharp pain pulsed through his neck, his eyes dilating as his mouth tried to release a scream, but it was cut off with his vision disappearing, with someone yelling in a distant voice.

 **~Golden Eagle~**

Alfred felt cold, drops of water pounding against an unknown surface echoing in his mind, limbs stiff against his sides, mind roaming with a slow pace. He felt nothing but darkness, it was a vortex of silence, with the feeling of dry ice pressing against his chest as he groaned, trying to awaken his limbs from their eternal sleep. The fight against the damp substance of the chilly air around him almost felt like stones of ice, his breath contracting from too much silence accompanied with contributions of noise that tried to cut the dead noise entirely but to no avail, for Alfred felt like screaming, but his tongue felt taped to the ceiling of his throat for him to choke against his own words. He writhed about in his posture that reminded him of being in his own tomb in the catacombs below, dust growing around him with no end in sight, for no crackling fires from torches or dark and heavy footsteps were heard to signal him of any human life.

Alfred felt hopeless, since the darkness was growing and consuming his very being, but somewhere in his consciousness there was a voice shouting at him to wake up among the chasms of the inner mindset. The shouts of 'Wake up!' and 'It's time' felt like illusions of his own mentality, although waking up gave him a growing dense feeling in his stomach. He finally felt his eyelids flutter open, seeing the worried eyes of Arthur above him that quickly turned into relief from how the anxiety in his pupils retreated.

Arthur looked ragged, his clothes of pristine silk and fabric replaced with leather rags that had the similar features of a prison tunic, his hair still ragged but more messy with tangled knots and grime hiding in splays of pilus. Alfred could see him sighing in relief, moving over for Alfred's heavy body to attempt sitting down properly parallel to him.

"I can't believe you're alive," Arthur muttered with his shoulders relaxing, his mouth trying to give a genuine smile but turned into a forced emotion of joy. Alfred wondered if Arthur was holding his tongue to stop his mouth from saying anything unnatural or vindictive. "You looked rather dead when they placed you here."

Alfred felt his eyes averting their focus to their surroundings, for his heart dropped when he saw dull walls of grey and vacant décor except for two unstable beds that were supported by weak wooden frames located at the corners of the small room. Alfred knew where they were even before seeing the bars and limited sunlight seeping into the room by the outside window guarded by metal frames; they were surrounded by metal and stone, a prison. Alfred immediately forgot about how his muscles were constricted in a painful way, and stood up, but fell down after he felt his left leg becoming immobile, tripping him from his unbalance. He groaned as his face went into contact with the floor, pain quickly subsiding but leaving a numb feeling as he sat up with his breath in disarray. Arthur widened his eyes at Alfred looking rather fearful with his strained face and perpetual spasms in his arms, his face gathering dust and filth from his head and clothes connecting with the ground a few seconds before. Arthur could see Alfred silently screaming as he directed his eyes to his own leg.

"What happened to me?" Arthur could hear Alfred whisper to no one but himself, his hands guiding to the leg like it was lifeless, but from how Alfred was reacting to his appendage Arthur thought that was the case. Alfred was pressing his slim fingers into the muscles of his leg that were still and unwavering, not looking up at Arthur as he gave out more questions in a soft but shaky voice. "What happened after I was knocked out? How did we get here?"

Arthur bit his lip as he remembered Alfred's lifeless body as it fell to the floor, with the numerous soldiers surrounding them with no dents in their defense of metal and iron, it felt like they were looking at him like a criminal, but stopped those thoughts as he looked down at Alfred awaiting his answers while still staring at his immobilized leg with an expression Arthur can't identify. "We were surrounded by soldiers, fifty of them to say the least. They placed us in the cells, even your body that had an appearance of a human-like practice dummy; Ivan though, let's just say that he's stiff like you."

Alfred perked his head up at the last detail Arthur described, looking at him with a concerned expression. For Alfred the thought that Ivan also became stiff in a frozen stance was concerning; Alfred could not think that Ivan, a man who can turn into a wolf harnessing deadly skill, can become vulnerable just from an encounter with the soldiers – it may be possible for him to be defeated but not incapacitated in a specific manner. "What happened to Ivan?" he asked, his mind trying to connect the story of what happened when he was unconscious in a somber domain.

"I don't know what happened," Arthur responded, watching Alfred sitting cross-legged with an uncomfortable expression from how his stiff leg stuck out from his folded limbs. "The leader did something, I could tell from how he pressed his fingers into Ivan's body – that observation was almost impossible since it happened so fast. He must have done something to Ivan's body structure from how he just jutted his fingers into the specific spots like he knew it as a physical memory code."

Alfred could actually recreate that scene, but the thoughts are rather lacking on most of the information from how blunt the answers were, even if it was irritating. He could imagine numerous men in iron plating that had engraved lines from their shoulder plating to their pelvic area, grim faces with sharp and patient eyes waiting for one misstep so they could dive into a killing frenzy, pairs of feet grounded to the earth that left marks soon after they left their stance on the territory, with his own body swept away in a ocean of metal and skin. He could see Ivan's body waiting for the men to strike, eyes darting around to find any openings in their human wall, his eyes faltering when he realized how thick the barrier between him and the gates were, some anxious energy beginning to grow throughout his stature that almost wavered. The soldiers must've saw that expression that tried to camouflage as distaste, some metal bodies moving aside to create a pathway for a general – which Alfred could not describe from his lack of knowledge – his medals and badges attached to his black or white fabric, a leather belt harboring his sheathed weapon of choice. Before Ivan could even react, the man lunged, but the recreation was severed from his curiosity and confusion about what style of attack the soldier harnessed, the only thing he knew about the end was that the three of them are in jail after the encounter.

Alfred held in a sigh before it can be released out of his mouth, eyes red and weary, trying to focus on his task that quickly receded back into his mind into obscurity to Alfred's annoyance. Alfred knew about his tired state even after being unconscious for some time, but the anxiety of being in a cell with no contact with the outer walls was horrifying. Alfred could feel some motion returning to his rigid leg, with some hope returning to him as he tried to regain back control into his lower limb.

 **~Golden Eagle~**

Ivan stared at the broad face of a man, his calm eyes staring at sharp charcoal pools, sitting parallel to him while being divided by a wooden desk that held reports on printed ink. Ivan could still feel his legs in a rigid state, frowning in his mind about how the battle turned out back in the alleys. He could still remember how he was paralyzed throughout his whole body, eyes set on the boots of iron near his vision from a few inches away that was covered in dirt splotches. It still sent pulses of pain to his brain, but he ignored it as he continued looking at the man in front of him.

"What do you want? Are you going to hang me for kidnapping a citizen or are you going to let Arthur stay in the cells?" Ivan demanded, his eyes not leaving the man's irises that could be lit like cinders. How the man was going to go through this was unknown to Ivan, since he could see some hidden intentions reflected in his pupil as he quickly looked down to take out a paper with the words _Ivan Braginsky_ printed on the top with bold letters.

"Ivan Braginsky, a host of the wolf, right?" Ivan blinked at how the man's voice was not filled with contempt or hatred, but actual curiosity; it felt weird to hear his name not spoken in disgust or loathing. The man continued without even gaining an answer for his question. "My name is General Alexander, the man who captured you in the alleys." Ivan nodded as he remembered some similar comparisons from the man's to Alexander's body type, since the person who fought him wore thick armor that covered his entire build and face, so trying to compare Alexander's face to earlier back was impossible. "You seemed to have quite a record on you – death of guards, reports of black magic – and how they describe your own appearance is biased at best."

Ivan frowned at Alexander, who continued looking through his profiles and records like it was a regular routine, but Ivan could understand what it would feel like to go through records on criminals, even if one could turn into a beast. What surprised Ivan is how there were no guards posted around the room he was in, even through apparent windows he couldn't see signs of soldiers; it's like Alexander trusted him of not running away or a circumstance led for him to understand that Ivan can't hurt him in his recurring state, which could be why his legs were the only appendages he can't move."

"I also heard of Alfred Jones and Arthur Kirkland, correct?" Ivan didn't respond as Alexander quickly obtained two reports with their names printed on it; Ivan was surprised that the police can report a profile of Arthur very quickly, even if they just met them a few hours ago. "It says here that Alfred was accused for being the cause of the one of the guard's and criminal's deaths in the alleys of Flos and Raulf, and is an accomplice, same with Arthur's profile." He placed the papers down after examining them with serene pace, glancing at Ivan. "Is this true that they are your accomplices?"

"No, those two aren't my accomplices," Ivan answered, trying to seep in some truth to try to convince him; even if he wanted the two involved with their powers, he didn't want to sentence their young lives to a noose.

Alexander nodded, some concern on his face as he returned the files back into their folders. "Do you know why all of you are here, Ivan Braginsky?"

Ivan could ponder many things on the outcome, but he silently knew that death was one of them, knowing how their society frowned upon the acts of his "dark magic" whereupon they would react harshly to see the face of a known figure of holding what they define as the dark arts. "Death, is that what you were meaning to do?"

Alexander gave a grim frown, shaking his head slowly in disagreement. Ivan knitted his eyebrows at why Alexander was negative about the execution, but decided that death would be best left alone until he mentions it again.

"You have that in your brain for your entire life, hm? They're not going to hang you in a fashion similar to the Spiritual Guard, we don't want to repeat history," Ivan felt elated in the inside that he wasn't going to die, but his confusion overcame him when he heard the words _Spiritual Guard_ , it sounded like a force to be reckoned with if they were able to be referenced by their deaths; Ivan noted that he should research on them when he had the chance, if the police even gave him a chance. "No, even if I'll be frowned upon with this but, I have an offer that will be better for all of us. You heard of the Vlumanir Battalion, correct?"

Ivan nodded, rather hurt to think that Alexander didn't think he heard of the news just because he hid from suspicious eyes. "Yes, I heard of what happened."

"Now, since our forces have been destroyed, the remains of the Vlumanir Battalion will be joining forces with the other holds to combat the Sinful from White Copper. With your capabilities from your powers, it could be a significant asset in fighting off these monstrosities from our land. They have already pillaged most of White Copper's minor towns, and since have been surrounding the hold's main city while it's on its last legs," his voice explained with sour tongue. "So, I have two options. One, you will be hanged with the others; I can't just let you free, I don't trust you with running away from the law, you might injure someone again. Unless you want the second option, you will be one of our soldiers on the field, using your powers against the darker forces extending into our territory. If you choose the latter, then we'll let you go when you finished your job."

Ivan could see how that man leaned over the desk with ease, stiff arms held out in a passive manner, hands held out for a handshake from him. Ivan could still feel his legs being immobile, so he reached out his upper body in a hesitant manner, wandering what type of consequences will be provoked from being the military's dogs. Ivan clasped his hand onto the other's, trying to see a future of these circumstances he brought upon him, Alfred, and Arthur as they shook their hands.

"It's great to see that you approve of being major help to us," Ivan couldn't tell if the remark was cynical or relieved, but he knew that this choice would change him; he knew of what these changes could do as both of them released their grip on each other.

 **~Golden Eagle~**

Alfred sprayed water into his face that was almost covered with dirt and blood from the latest Sinful attack, feeling his hair becoming heavy as drops of liquid slid off the ends of his hair similar to escaping the enclosed leaves by the pointed tips while rainfall was harsh. Alfred winced at how cold the water was as it touched his skin – it didn't help that it was violently cold in White Copper, but he swiftly grabbed a towel hanging on a lone tree branch, rejuvenated when he dipped his entire head into the large bucket, pulling himself out while laughing like a kid. He didn't care if the water felt like ice needles penetrating his skin, he just had a need to dunk his head under the surface, it was something he always did when he was working with Angus; the feeling of being underwater just excited him, he never knew why.

It has been a few weeks since the situation with being captured was settled between Ivan, Arthur, and himself about working for the military against the Sinful, even if Arthur was rash about it about not being involved with the two of them, saying he was an innocent bystander who got stuck into the mess. It got resolved when they examined Arthur's birthmark, which was similar to Ivan's and his with the same line thickness, the style of celtic, and how descriptive and sharp the animal in the center was; they tried multiple ways of cleaning it off, but it was fruitless as the mark never left. He didn't know why Arthur didn't summon his animal to prove it, or even subtle signs of Ivan trying to provoke it. For now, Arthur still was sour about the situation, but was adapting pretty quickly to their current state in White Copper.

White Copper was beautiful in Alfred's perspective, even if the harsh winter and snow dampened most of their spirits from the thoughts of hypothermia and lack of warmth, but Alfred could still see how peaceful it was behind the pelting ice. When the weather did turn vision-severing snow into light descending flakes, which Alfred thought would glisten against sunlight if there was no clouds covering the sky, it was serene, how they dance in the air to the soft whistling and thrashing of the wind and trees reminded him of a scene from a fairy tale from his childhood.

Even if Alfred was excited about walking through the sheets of white in the new terrain, he couldn't stop reminding himself about the soldiers who begrudgingly went along with them for the journey. After one week of waiting for the assisting forces from the other holds to arrive in Aevum's capital, numerous soldiers with healed minor wounds were able to assist in the mission, but Alfred could still remember how some of them looked disgusted at them from a few feet away as they left the city with horses, guns, gunpowder, rations, and more items that Alfred can't list. Alfred didn't know why having an ability was frowned upon, but he could tell that Ivan has been through similar events like these from how his face was stern, disregarding any snide comment as he walked along with tense muscles.

They were currently resting near an ongoing stream that apparently resisted the cold for some time, since it didn't envelop itself completely in a thin sheet of ice. They set up camps in a ring formation as the last bits of sunlight sunk deeper into the mountains that formed the barrier between the Pinnacle and White Copper near its borders. It was just a few hours ago when they were interrupted by a lone Sinful, which they easily defeated after decapitating, but it did some damage to Alfred's face although he just ignored it from how small they were. This is where he began to wash away the blood and filth he collected from fighting it with a bucket filled with river water, blotting his face and wet strands of hair with a towel.

"You look like you're having a good time with the bucket," Alfred turned around to see Arthur's disgruntled face, already dressed in long-sleeved pajamas of smoothed fur and wool. He seemed to be less aggravated about the whole deal, so carrying a conversation with him was going to be less difficult from the first attempts.

"Well, this is the first time I get to wonder around White Copper; I just go around the ports and cities with my old job, so I'm getting to enjoy it before it lasts," Alfred explained, grabbing a comb made of shell from a table as he walked back into the ring of tents, straightening knots in his hair.

"Does that mean you're going to enjoy it until our lives end?" Arthur retorted with a scrunched face, walking beside Alfred as he grabbed a lamp outside their tent that stood on a smooth stone, entering through the flap of fabric with it to illuminate the dark inside the temporary shelter. "Do you even question why we, innocent civilians, are just doing what the military wants? I don't know about you, but I'm not like you two; the both of you have unleashed that power, and you used them to kill two people."

"Arthur, you were being mugged, and if it weren't for us intervening, then you would've died," Alfred replied, placing the towel near his makeshift bed with his shell comb.

"Yes, but those are people, real people. When Ivan ripped out that man's neck, it was too inhumane," Alfred's forehead shown creases from his eyebrows furrowing and mouth lowering into a frown. Arthur was correct about Ivan's way of attack, but what can they do at that same moment in that alley? Those criminals didn't back down from killing or injuring a human being, so intimidating them or scaring them was ineffective. "Can we even trust Ivan? He's the first one to discover this power, who knows what happened to him that caused him to become wanted on posters?"

Alfred faltered when he knew what Arthur spoke was truthful, he almost forgot about that small but important detail. He never knew about Ivan's intentions, his origins, even his reasonings to why he wanted him to be involved with the powers in the first place. Arthur grimaced at Alfred's reaction, sighing.

"You trusted him blindly, didn't you?" Alfred bit his tongue as Arthur placed the lamp into Alfred's right hand with quick fingers as he walked past him to exit the tent by the flap, the sounds of a fire crackling and the conversations of the soldiers returning after being muffled by the tent's thin sound barrier, but immediately became muffled once again when Arthur left, leaving Alfred with the small flame in the lamp that burned alive with the support of small pools of oil.


End file.
